by Becca Moree
Copyright © 2016 by Becca Moree. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Published by: Becca Moree
Cover Design by Simply Defined Art
Paperback ISBN: 978-1535048347
First Edition, July 2016
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
This book is intended for mature audiences only.
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Sneak Peek at FaeTal
About the Author
To ‘the hubs’ - I cannot thank you enough for sticking with me through this insane process. The crazy thoughts, me randomly blurting out ideas in the grocery store or car or restaurant (at least I managed to keep it out of the bedroom...mainly), making you read excerpts to see if it makes sense to someone that isn’t in my head and most of all for putting up with my imaginary friends taking up so much of my time these last few months. This book would not exist without you. You have supported me through it all and helped me make it through the tough times when others put me down and made me feel like I couldn’t do this. You told me from day one that I could do this and because of your constant support and love, it’s finally here! I love you so very much!
To ‘the girls’ - Oh for the love of all that’s holy girls! This book would have been out MONTHS ago if you had only let me work! But nooo...every five minutes I had to stop to play hide and seek or fix a drink! (And I wouldn’t change a single second of it, even if it does make getting things done a little difficult.) Do you have any idea how hard it is to write a steamy scene with two little girls giggling in a pool while listening to Disney music? Hehe, in all seriousness though, you two girls are my world and it is because of you that I decided to make a go of my dreams. I want to set the right kind of example for the two of you and that means showing you that your dreams can come true if you put your heart and soul into it. All you have to do is try your hardest. So long as you did your best, guess what...you did it! I am so proud of the two of you and I can’t wait for the day that you girls are old enough to read what mommy was working on while you two played around me. I love you to the moon and back, past the ocean and the stars. Forever and ever!
There are so many people that have helped this book become a reality. I never realized how many friends I truly had until I began this process. If I could have just one wish, it would be that you guys lived closer to me so that we could spend more time together!
C. Tuttle - Girl, I don’t even know where to begin with you and your crazy tail! If it weren’t for you talking me down from crying into my bottle of wine that night I can honestly say that this book never would have happened. The series would have stayed in my head, maybe I would have written it in a journal, but it wouldn’t have been published. You forced me to back away from the wine, wipe away my tears, pull up my big girl panties and make this thing happen. You keep me sane! For that I will always be in you debt!
Faith Gibson - You have made this book possible, without my losing my ever loving mind in the process. You edited the book as I wrote it, helped me figure out formatting for betas and walked me through the process of publishing (You even introduced me to the most awesome cover designer ever!). You spent hours on end with me and my imaginary friends helping our voices shine. The time and effort you have put into helping me fulfill my dreams is unheard of and I love you so much for it. Who would have thought that my ad for a roomie for the Pay It Forward conference (You know... the one that mentioned wine, bubble baths and long walks on the beach?) would lead to such an amazing friendship! My one regret is that we haven’t been able to hang out in person since then.
Simply Defined Art - How can I ever express my gratitude for all that you have done for me? You took a bunch of rambling thoughts and ideas, a few images, and a book blurb and turned them into a breathtaking cover that perfectly fits what was in this crazy head of mine. I absolutely love what you came up with!
Irish Ink Formatting - Thank you so much for helping me make the inside of my book look as awesome as the cover!
Owl Branch Book Promotions - You have been an amazing addition to my little team. I cannot thank you enough for the massive amounts of time you spend telling the world about me and my books. You are amazing!
Katt (My Rockin’ PA) & Shelby (Head Freak) - You ladies may have just joined my little team, but good lord if you didn’t come in swinging! You two have taken over my little FaeTAL Freaks street team and pimped my posts all over facebook. The amount of times a day that the two of you mention my page on FB is insane! I can say without shame or a single doubt: you guys rock and I adore you!
Brett
Being surrounded by this demented fucking shit twenty-four, seven is really starting to get to me. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a good Halloween party or carnival as much as any other good ol’ southern boy. Problem was, this one never ends.
These sick fucks actually seem to get off on it all.
I swear on my daddy’s grave, if these people knew what all went on behind the scenes at their beloved Carnival of Darkness, they might think twice about handing over their hard earned cash.
Shit!
Just thinking about all the sick things I’ve seen in the last six months makes my damn stomach turn. I’d surely be happier than a pig in shit if I could get the hell out of here. But that ain’t in the game plan just yet. Wish I had never accepted this god-forsaken job. I owe Mac my damn life, so when the man says jump, I don’t even ask how high until I’m already in the fucking air.
For now, I have to keep up appearances and keep acting my part. I run the menagerie. It’s my job to care for the animals used around the C.O.D. Lucky me, I also get to put on a little show once a night. You just gotta love being ogled by a shit ton of freaks while riding a horse and lassoing a hot chick who is wearing very little in the clothing department. Not to mention that same chick just happens to be running from a knife wielding, creepy ass, blood-covered clown.
I get no damn satisfaction in roping some helpless woman so that the clown can catch her. Hell, each and every night my need to take that fucking knife from the clown and give him the fight of his life grows harder and harder to resist.
If it was all an act, maybe I could look the other way a bit easier. Unfortunately, I know that it’s not. I know that each and every night the girl gets kicked, dragged around, and stabbed, and not a single fucking second of it is fake.
Her screams of pain and her fear-filled eyes are one hundred percent real. They fill my dreams, turning them into nightmares I can never escape.
I’ve done my fair share of bad shit in my life. I’ve stolen cars. I’ve done and dealt drugs. I’ve been in a veritable shit ton of fights. I’ve even gone so far as to hold someone up at gunpoint. Needless to say, I’m far from an innocent man.
When my daddy passed and my momma moved us from our farm in Shady Dale to Atlanta, Georgia for work, my world fucking imploded. Everything changed way too damn fast, and my helpless teenage self just couldn’t figure out how to deal. I did what any hard-headed, stubborn ass teenage boy would do in my situation. I bottled that shi
t up, and eventually it exploded in ways my momma definitely didn’t approve of.
The day I went to jail for jacking a car is the day my life changed. Little did I know that the car I lifted belonged to a fucking bounty hunter.
What are the damn odds of that?
I haven’t a clue what Mac saw in me when he came down to the station. All I know is that once he talked with the cop and then with me, he decided not to press charges.
Oh no, that fucker had bigger plans for my stupid ass. He set it up with the sheriff's office and my momma. Instead of jail, I would work for him. If I stepped even one little toe out of line, my ass would be back behind bars.
He signed me up at a gym for MMA and hand-to-hand training. Then once I finished school, yet another requirement for keeping my happy ass out of jail for boosting his favorite car, he hired me on full time as a bounty hunter for Shadow Hunters, Inc.
Now, here I am, ten years later on another job with no end in sight. We got hired by a guy whose sister went missing after visiting the C.O.D. After doing some digging, we found that over the years there had been quite a few odd occurrences that seemed to revolve around the freaky carnival.
We had to act fast and get me in before they moved on to their next location. With Mac’s computer skills it was a simple thing to give me a new background. One involving a shit ton of crimes and a recent release from prison. Once he was done with me I was so attractive to them that I had no trouble getting hired on.
When Mac sent me out here, I sure as shit never expected all this.
The fucked-up-beyond-belief booths. The dense fog-oozing funhouse, that is anything but fun. The strange take on games and vendors. And let's not forget about the damn clowns.
What is it with clowns anyways? Does anyone actually like these damn things?
I found the girl pretty quick. Wasn’t even hard if I’m being honest. Problem was, I couldn’t just take her and run. She wasn’t the only one being held. I needed more intel before I could pull her out. I couldn’t risk leaving the others at the mercy of the C.O.D while I was attempting to get her the hell out of there.
So, for the last six long-ass months, I have been playing my part. Being a douche to everyone and keeping up appearances. As far as these fuckers know, I’m a badass cowboy convict that doesn’t give a fuck about the kidnappings, beatings, or torture. I do what I’m told and keep my head down.
Tonight’s show went off without a hitch. I did what I was supposed to and managed not to kill anyone. On my walk through the C.O.D to my trailer, I can’t help but look around at the freak show that has become my life. I honestly can’t fucking decide if this place is worse crowded with people or, times like now, when everyone is gone. All that’s left is the silence that leads my mind on a continuous loop of the hellacious screams of tortured women as they beg for mercy that will never be granted.
Each booth and attraction I walk by is worse than the last. Each one causing the screams in my head to echo a little louder.
The ‘Live Puppet Show’ is creepy as fuck. People actually find it fun to sit in an audience and watch helpless women be forced to do shit against their will. The puppeteer takes requests and then uses rope that is tied uncomfortably tight around every available body part - including their neck and sometimes hair - to put on a show. This attraction often leads to dislocated arms and legs as well as a death or two when the men running it get a bit carried away. It’s not like these dicks can or will take the girls to the hospital afterwards. Fuck no. They just toss them back in their trailers, and if they’re lucky, another girl is allowed to tend to them.
The ‘Scary-Go-Round’ is filled with broken horses, cracked mirrors, and so much blood I’m almost scared someone is going to slip on the shit. The music pouring out of this thing consists of moans, groans, screams, and now and then, some actual music. Why anyone gets on any of these rides beats the hell out of me. They are all covered in rust and grime. I guess everyone thinks that they are just painted to look that way and not actually falling apart. Hah! Joke’s on them.
‘Stab N Grab’ is the definition of insane. They actually strap women to the wall, surround them with balloons, and let drunks throw darts at them. Yeah, that goes real well.
Then you have ‘Drown the Clown’. If only it were the guards that liked to dress like clowns up in that damn booth. Hell, I’d take a shot at them for sure. That’s not the case, though. Instead, one of the poor girls gets dressed up in the skimpiest clown costume possible and tossed on the bench. Again, if it ended there, it would be okay. These sick fucks make sure the water is literally ice cold, and the booth is so deep there is no chance of standing up. The girls have to tread water until the bastard running the booth stops laughing long enough to toss her a rope ladder so she can get up on the bench and do it all over again.
‘Ring Toss’ sounds innocent enough. Trust me, it ain’t what it sounds. For this one the women are trussed up like animals and forced to stay in one position for hours on end while carnival goers throw hard, heavy rings at their heads.
None of it compares to the horrors that take place in the ‘Fun House’. The things that take place inside those walls... Fuck me sideways man, I’m pretty sure specially trained military men have broken under less.
The list of fucked up attractions goes on and on. I can’t understand how the people visiting this damn place can’t see it for what it is.
The thing is, though, some of this shit just ain’t adding up anymore.
I’ve gotta get some time to myself, and soon, so that I can contact Mac with an update. I sure as shit hope he has figured out who we need to contact with all this. There has to be someone that can help shut this fucking place down once and for all.
Charlee
Why for the love of all that is holy did I let Samantha talk me into coming to this freaky carnival? I don’t even do haunted houses because they scare the bejesus out of me!
Go out with your friends, she said.
It will be fun, she said.
I’ll watch the baby, it’s no big deal at all.
Big sister or not. I am so kicking her tail when I get home. This place is freaking insane!
The only part of this place that is even remotely my style is the palm reader. That sounds like something I might actually enjoy. That is if I can get past the sign written in what looks way too much like real blood.
Ugh, why must everything in this place be so icky? So just plain creepy.
“Hey, guys, let's try out the fortune teller thing. That sounds like fun, right?” I urge.
“Uh, sure, Char. If that’s what you want to do. I don’t see why we can’t give it a go.” Rick agrees but looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
I know they don’t understand why I don’t enjoy this type of thing. Sara and Greg beg off to go check out the piercing booth while Rick takes my hand to lead the way.
Why do I get the feeling he thinks this is a date? None of my friends from work will accept that I’m just not ready to date yet. Losing Will is still too fresh. Too painful. No matter how long it has been.
No one gets it. No one understands that I don’t want to have guys pushed on me left and right. Besides, no guy wants to take on the kind of baggage I come with.
Maybe I should have said no and just stayed home tonight. The same as I have every day for the last eight months and twelve days.
Crap!
I shouldn’t have left her yet. Little Willow is only two months old. I’m not ready for this, heck maybe I never will be. It’s just too much. Being in crowds of people overwhelms my senses.
I pull away from Rick and take my phone out of my pocket to call Sam and check on the baby. Let her know I can come on home if they need me. Willow has never been away from me for this long. The manager at the firm I work for has been awesome. She lets me bring her to work with me so long as I can keep up with my filing and transcripts, she doesn’t seem to mind her being there. Having such an understanding boss makes working this soon a
fter having her a lot easier.
Rick’s voice jerks me out of my thoughts.
“You want to do this or not, Char?”
“Yep, let's do this thing.” I force a grin and release my phone back into my pocket.
“Awesome, let’s go see what our future looks like. Then we can go watch the rodeo.”
Our future? Uh, yeah. No.
Keeping my eyes downcast and away from the gross sign and creepy entrance, I follow Rick inside.
“Welcome. Enter if you dare.”
A snort escapes me, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling if I tried. How cheesy can they get with this baloney? At least it isn’t scary.
A man wearing gypsy-esque clothing sits at a round, cloth-covered table. His long, frizzy hair seems to be flying about his pointy head. His beady little eyes zero in on our clasped hands. Slightly yellowed teeth grin from behind a scraggly beard.
“Please, join me,” the odd little man adds with a hand flourish that has me struggling to hold in a giggle.
Rick pulls my chair out for me. Once we’re both seated, he reaches for my hand again. I quickly lay my hands in my lap and avoid his gaze.
“Trouble in paradise? Now that just won’t do. Not at all. Let’s see what the future holds for you two love birds, shall we?”
The smell of incense and candles is almost overwhelming. My eyes start to water.
“How does this work? You read palms or what?”
“That is it exactly, sir. I am highly trained in the art of reading palms. Especially those of someone as beautiful as this young lady.”
Oh puh-lease! Flattery will get you nowhere, especially in this creepy place. I swear, I’m going to burst a freaking blood vessel attempting to keep from rolling my eyes or snorting again.
